Green Eyes
by mrtango
Summary: After all, he was his son.  MW2, AU, NO slash
1. Introduction

**AN:**

**Well, this is my first upload on here, my first COD fanfic to be put up full stop. This is meant to be taken after Shepherd's death, with Roach and Ghost both surviving (I know, I just loved them far too much to let them die, kukuku ;D). More details will emerge as the story goes on; I'm not all too sure how long this'll be but it'll be 10+ chapters anyway.**

**Enjoy and R+R please!**

**Socks**

The sun was only beginning to rise, yet there was activity about the base. A mission has been called through, and the team was already preparing to depart. Out on the open of the barren base, a Black Hawk sat, almost perched, ready to fly. In amongst the bustle of men moving back and forth, weapons being stashed and support loaded onto the chopper, a pair of figures stood, framed by the early sun.

A man, clad in the usual T-141 gear, but his face covered by a black balaclava, a headset drooped around his neck. His companion only reached mid-thigh, dressed in a loose white t-shirt that fell to his knees and plain shorts, obviously pajamas, and a mop of light brown hair, blinking sleep out of his small eyes. In time, the elder gently dropped to one knee, laying a gentle hand on the smaller's head. Their conversation was gentle, muddled amongst the hustle of movement from the others.

" Be a good boy while I'm gone, alright?"

" Yes Daddy."

" Do as Soap says, and don't bother the guys okay?"

" Yes Daddy."

" Good lad..."

There was a pause, before the child threw his arms around his father's neck, gently being hoisted into the air as he stood up, a soft chuckle filling the air. The boy sniffed, burrowing his head into his protector's neck, and mumbled to him.

" Come home soon Daddy... I miss you when you're gone..."

The elder smiled beneath his mask, gently pulling it down and pressing his lips to the child's forehead.

" I will son, I promise. I'll be home in no time."

The boy sniffed again, small face wrinkled with line of worry, fingers curled into the material of his father's shirt. The moment, however, dissolved as someone spoke from beside the man.

" Ghost. We're moving out."

The speaker stood, an almost regretful look on his face for having interrupted the father and son, his voice ringing in a clear, brash, Scottish accent. Beside him, a slightly shorter man stood, the same look of apology on his face, scratching a bearded chin. Ghost nodded, gently looking back down to his young charge.

" Time to go, little man. Now remember, no pranks, go to bed when you're told, and listen to Uncle Soap..."

The little boy giggled, nodding in agreement, receiving one last kiss from his father before being placed back on the ground, half stumbling in bare feet over to the Soap, clinging to his trouser leg.

" 'No pranks'? That'll be right..."

" Well, he's been warned..."

Soap laid a hand on the young boy's head, smiling down at him.

" Takes after his father too much to listen though. Far too stubborn... Ach, we'll be fine, won't we laddie?"

The little boy nodded, laying his head against the man's leg, looking towards his father, who was pulling his balaclava back up, and strapping on his holsters. Price gave Soap a friendly pat on the back; the two captains shared control of the task force, and took turn about leading the missions, the other controlling from base. After Shepherd's death, the nature of T-141 had changed, and a permanent base had been set up, in hopes it would make controlling the missions easier on whoever was commanding, as well as being able to allow the whole team to gather as one, and relax somewhat. Today, it was Soap's turn to sit behind the radio. He wasn't particularly keen on the idea, he preferred being on the battle field, but it was the deal. Besides, he always had the kid to keep him company.

Said child was currently wriggling in his arms, waving at super speed to the men boarding the chopper, eyes fixated on Ghost. Ghost was last on, turning to close the chopper door behind the men, giving his son one last small wave, before slamming the door closed. Soap turned, heading back towards the buildings as the rotors began to spin, kicking up a dust storm that made nearly all invisible. Once they were inside, the little boy ran to the window, watching as the helicopter disappeared into the distance, green eyes shining. Soap watched for a moment, before walking over and joining him at the window.

" He'll be back, Tigger."

The boy turned to look at Soap, his bottom lip protruding into an unmissable pout, quivering gently.

" I know...but I still miss 'im."

" I know laddie, I know. But he's going out to keep the world safe, you should be proud."

The child didn't reply, still watching after where the helicopter had disappeared. At 4, he was perhaps too young for the whole pep talk, Soap decided. But MacTavish wasn't a man without a heart, and the kid had found a place in it quite early on. It was probably true for most of the men of the 141.

" C'mon Tigger. Let's go see who's on the radio."


	2. Uncle Soap

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since his father had departed with most of T-141. It had seemed a lot longer to the young boy, but Uncle Soap assured him it had only been two weeks, and that they would be returning soon. Frankly, he was bored. Both his father and Uncle Gary had been sent away, thus equaling no-one who was particularly well versed in the means of 'play-time' was left on base. Soap was too busy with mission details, and any of the men left over were simply uninterested in a game of Duck and Cover, or Sniper, or anything.

So he'd been left to his own devices. Literally. He had snuck away when Soap had been radio-ing something or other to Price, and had found himself a playroom in the armory. His father had warned him it was strictly off limits, but if he wasn't here, there was no-one to stop him, he conceded. He knew better than to touch any of the equipment ( he'd grown up on base, he'd seen a Claymore go off, and had been warned enough by his respective Uncles) but there was something mystifying about the racks of weapons, and he sat, eyes wide, looking up at the gleaming metal.

After some time of simply staring, he'd decided he wanted one for himself. What harm could it do just to look at them? They wouldn't be loaded, he knew that. Well, they shouldn't be. Stretching up onto his tip toes, he'd just about reached the handle of a MP5K, when a shadow fell on him from the doorway, and he froze, the voice literally terrifying him.

" William John Gary Riley."

The Scotsman stood, arms folded, eyes a sharp glare towards the youngster, who immediately retreated from the rack with a squeak, not looking the man in the eyes and instead focusing on a particularly interesting spot on the floor.

" What in God's name do you think you're doing?"

The silence was stifling. Will remained looking at the floor, that piece of rock particularly interesting. Anything but looking Soap in the face. He didn't have much choice however, as the captain knelt down in front of him, suddenly face to face. In his father's words, he looked bloody furious.

" Your answer?"

" I-I was only looking..."

There was a pause, and Will chanced a look at MacTavish's face. It was set in a hard, grim glare, and he knew whatever he said wasn't changing the scolding he was about to get.

" How many times have you been told not to come in here?"

Here it came. Will glanced up at him again, before hanging his head, small feet shuffling.

" Lots."

" So why are you in here?"

" I-I...I was...I was bored and-"

" You were bored, so you thought you'd blow yourself up? "

" N-No, I knew-"

" You knew what? You knew it was unloaded? You knew it was safe? How did you know?, Hey, look at me when I'm speaking to you!"

Will glanced up, finding himself unable to reply. Soap glared at the boy, an eyebrow raised.

" You want to be part of the team, you follow the rules. You put everyone in danger when you act selfishly, including yourself. Most importantly yourself. If you're going to act like a baby, then we'll treat you like one. You want that?"

The little boy shook his head, worrying his bottom lip, before looking back up at his uncle.

" I'm...sorry..."

" So you should be. Come on, out of here."

The boy scurried to the door, receiving a clip about the ear from the elder man as he left, and ran towards the command post before Soap could give him another one. MacTavish watched him for a moment, before sighing, a soft chuckle leaving his lips and closing the armory door behind him. The boy was growing more and more like his father, the same inquisitive nature that had both served Ghost well in many a mission, and placed him into so many tight spots, clearly evident in him. There'd always been a joke that there'd been no mother involved, that Will was simply a clone Simon had had made for him. It wouldn't be far wrong. MacTavish could still remember the day Will had arrived, the look his face when the bundle had been handed to him.

"_Sir!"_

_MacTavish looked up from his report, eyes settling on a runner at the door._

"_Aye?"_

" _Sir, there's a package for a member of your squad. A 'Ghost'?"_

" _Aye, that'd be right. Bring it in."_

" _Well,Sir, it's just..."_

" _Just what, man? Spit it out."_

_The messenger paused for a moment, trying to find the words, but instead, turned behind him and handed an open box to the captain. MacTavish blinked, looking at the man, before looking down to its contents. His eyes grew wide, and he looked back at the runner, shock, confusion, every possible horrified emotion running on his face._

" _Is this some kind of joke?"_

" _No sir! It...He was found at our base door, with a note addressed for 'Ghost'. So we asked our Captain who said to ask you."_

" _And the mother?"_

" _She wasn't seen sir."_

" _Christ. And you promise this isn't a joke?"_

" _Of course not sir!"_

_Soap gritted his teeth, an almost amused grin plastering across it. This was going to be interesting to say the least._

Looking down at the boy before him now, that little baby was almost gone. In his place stood a mini-Simon, the same mousey tousled mop, the same green eyes, the same lop sided grin, the same gentle manner, and cheeky tongue. His train of thought was stopped, however, as a static buzzing emerged over the radio, and Price's voice began to ring through.

" Hotel 6 to base, do you copy?"

Soap sat down, pulling the microphone towards him, and glanced over to the little boy watching, giving him a smirk and a soft jerk of his head. Will beamed, pulling himself into Soap's lap, and looked up at the man as he spoke, earlier misdoings clearly forgotten for now.

" Base to Hotel 6, reading you loud and clear."

" Base, we are oscar mike, intel was off."

Soap groaned. Intel. Was. Off.

" Again?" That was the boy.

" Tigger, don't remind me. Affirmative Hotel 6, we'll check out that informant."

" Give him a smack. Staking out in the bloody cold for 2 weeks for nothing..."

" Affirmative, Hotel 6."

" Anyway, we've just left the target area, en route to base. ETA 4 hours."

" Got it. Over and out."

The radio went dead, and Soap was met by a pair of bright eyes.

" They're coming home?"

" Aye. But it's your bed time, last thing I need's your father giving me a hard time."

William's face fell, his top lip protruding, eyes instantly gaining the puppy dog look.

" Don't start that laddie..."

" But Uncle Soaaaap..."

" No. Bed. Now."

Will opened his open, argument readying, but Soap beat him to it, hoisting the boy into his arms and quick marching across to the residential areas. Each of the men had been given a small private quarter, bathroom attached. Shepherd's blank cheque had paid off in the end, in the form of this small base, though how much the government knew Price had carefully watched. Will was something that had been somewhat skimmed over.

MacTavish flicked on the light as he entered Ghost's quarters. They'd shifted him to the biggest one once Will had arrived. His own bed was pushed against the far wall, with a smaller one at its foot, only marking that it was a child's by the small blue bear that sat at the pillow. He gently let Will down, and the boy scrambled over, pulling out a pair of pyjamas and dashing to the bathroom to change. Soap sat down at the desk in the corner, his eyes drifting to the selection of photographs pinned to the wall beside it. They were mostly of father and son, on a Black Hawk, in the nearby lake, one Soap recalled taking himself of the two with their identical grin. The one that made his smile, however, was the one with an un-masked Simon gently cradling a tiny Will on the day he'd arrived. John reached over, unpinning it gently and bringing it closer, studying it gently, a smile on his broad face.

" 'Choo looking at, Uncle Soap?"

Soap looked back over his shoulder; Will was standing, pyjamas on, his head cocked to one side.

" Ah, just a photo, Tigger. You ready for bed?"

" Uh-huh! I brushed my tee'f and everything."

" Good lad, good lad..."

Soap re-pinned the photo, getting out of the chair and walking over to the boy, who was climbing onto the smaller cot. The soft thudding of a helicopter resonated from outside, and Will's eyes focused on the window, before looking back to Soap.

" Daddy's gonna be home soon!"

" Mhm. He'll be here when you wake up."

" Buh' I want 'im here now..."

The little boy looked up, that pout back again. Soap sat down with a sigh, gently tugging the covers up around the child.

" Moaning English brat..."

" Ol' Scottish git..."

" Oi!"

" Well, Daddy says y'are!"

MacTavish chuckled, playfully roughing his hair. Will had picked up, he supposed, Simon's accent. His vocabulary was very much American (Gary was blamed for the 'soccer' games and 'peanut butter and jelly sandwiches'), but he was very much fond of 'aye' (Simon blamed MacTavish this time) and yet had the tendency to slip into a much more English accent around his father. It was distinctive to say the least. Roach had once commented that if he learnt several foreign languages, he could be a brilliant undercover operative.

" Well, your Daddy doesn't know everything..."

" Aye he does!" (There was that 'aye' again, he was going to get the blame for this) "Daddy knows every'fing."

" You think so?"

" Mhm. He knows every'fing about every'fing. He made me a ghillie suit, an' a new air gun, an' he showed me where you gotta hit to take down a 'pache..."

" A pache?"

" Y'know, the helicopter?"

" An Apache?"

" That's wha' I said! Y'deaf Uncle Soap!"

" Ach, you just can't talk laddie, that's the problem. Nothing wrong with this man's ears. Anyway, cheeky, head down. C'mon it's twenty to ten, your father'll have my balls for letting you stay up this late..."

Will giggled as he lay his head down on the pillow, snuggling in and letting out a yawn. Soap tugged the covers up the rest of the way, before leaning down and giving the boy a quick kiss on the forehead.

" Uncle Soap?"

" What is it lad?"

There was a pause, with Will's small brows furrowing, before he looked back at him.

" I'm sorry I was bad."

Soap blinked, the incident with the armoury all but vanished from his mind. It took his a moment, before he smiled down at the boy.

" Ach, don't worry about it. Just wouldn't want anything to happen to you, hm? Your father loves you too much to ever forgive me. And there's plenty of ways to kill me 'round here..."

' Uh-huh! He could shoot 'ya, or blow you up, or chop your head off wi'f a helicopter, or-"

" There's plenty of ways to kill me, let's leave it at that. Now sleep. Enough murder talk, save that for later."

He stood up, ever so slightly shaken at the boy's quick reaction to the possibility of putting him 6 feet under, and flicked off the light as he reached the door. He turned back around, giving the boy one last check over.

" Night, Tigger."

" G'night Uncle Soap."

Satisfied the child was indeed actually in bed (he'd snuck off on more that one occasion in an attempt delay bed time in the past), he left, closing the door behind him. He was greeted with a scene, however, that made him want to cry. A Black Hawk helicopter, with the rest of T-141, sitting on the landing site. It took no time at all for Ghost to appear, making his way over to his commander. The image of the peaceful, now calm, child inside was shattered. All that work for nothing.

" Good to see MacTavish."

" You too. So our intel was off?"

" Pfft, by a mile. Not a single movement in two weeks, nothing suspicious at all. Makarov's hidden far too well for a seedy hotel anyway... How's Will?"

Soap replied with a sigh, somewhat desperation and annoyance in his voice.

" I _just_ got him to bed..."

Ghost paused, before letting out a loud laugh, gently pushing past Soap, and opening the door to his quarters. From inside, a small voice sounded.

" Uncle Soap? Wha- DADDY!"

MacTavish couldn't help but smile as the peace he'd just created was broken by squeals and laughter, but took his opportunity and left, heading for Price. Simon could do bedtime this time.


	3. SSDD

**So guys, I may have forgotten to add my A/N last time...my bad!**

**Thank you all so so so so much for the reviews, they really mean a lot to me, please keep 'em coming! It's a real boost to know people are enjoying your work! :D**

**As for this next chapter, well, I had always set out to write this with a plot in mind, and it was evil and dramatic. It just sorta got side-tracked by the Willfluff. Maybe once this is further on, I'll do some sideshots of Will etc, I'm not all too sure yet. But this story's about to take a dip for the drama, so hang on :3 **

**As ever guys enjoy!**

**Socks**

It was a custom for the base; someone had to do the shopping. It had been built about a mile from the nearest town, a small one at that, and all the locals knew was that it was a military base, nothing out of the ordinary about it. MacTavish made a point of looking as 'ordinary military' as possible, right down to having those sent on the mission dress in traditional greens.

William, as much as he could, wangled his ways onto the trips, mainly for the toy store that resided on the small high street, and the large 'Pick N Mix' section in the grocery store. So it came to pass that Roach, Ghost, Archer and Will were sent to do the weekly run, under heavy instructions from the captains.

The townsfolk knew them well enough; they used last names only when out and about, and often joked off enquiries about helicopters or visitors to the base. As they entered the supermarket, Archer immediately spotted 'his girl'; a pretty, petite blonde he'd taken to talking to. Roach had sworn he'd seen him sneak off base to see her, but only to the trustworthy; the men weren't as cruel as to grass to MacTavish. Ghost and Roach continued on, waiting until they were past the flirting two to talk.

" What a charmer, eh? How come he gets the girl? Roach, ever wondered how men like him get a girl? All he knows about is his damn rifles."

" Ah, he's a nice guy though. Apparently, she likes the muscly, masculine look. Muscles make the man?"

" So that leaves the rest of us out in the dark? S'not my fault I'm not 'built', you at least stand half a chance..."

" So are you not manly Daddy?"

The two men's bickering stopped, both sets of eyes turned to the youngster in the shopping trolley.

" E-Eh?"

" I said, are you not manly then?"

" Whatever makes you think that?"

Will's small brows furrowed in concentration, trying to make his logic that bit clearer.

" Uncle Roach said muscles make the man...and you've only got baby muscles compared to him, or Archer ... so compared to 'dem, you're not as manly!"

Roach's face broke into a wide, cat-like grin, glancing out the corner of his eyes to his superior with a slight cackle. Simon stared at his son with a mixture of bewilderment, horror, and quite possibly hurt. On a military base having his masculinity questioned, by his own child none the less, was the last thing he needed. If MacTavish caught wind of this, he'd never let it go.

" N-no, that's not what it means..."

The child let out an exasperated sigh, folding his small arms and looking to his father.

" Then what _does_ it mean, Daddy?"

Roach's grin, if possible, grew wider, enjoying every moment of Ghost's pain.

" Yeah Riley, what does it mean?"

His response was a sharp elbow in the ribs, and a look that promised of suffering at a later date. Simon looked back down at the green eyes staring inquisitively at him.

" W-Well...it just means...some men have less muscles than others...and that's the way it is."

" So they are less manly."

" No! No, no, no, not at all! They're still manly!"

Roach chose his ideal moment to step in.

" They just want more muscles, to try and look more manly to prove it."

The child immediately gained a look of understanding, before it changed to one of somewhat pity, with an all-knowing gleam twisted in.

" Ah but Daddy, we don't always get what we want."

" Do NOT use Daddy's words against him! That advice only applies to entire collections of baseball cards, Kevlar jumpsuits and the largest size of ice cream."

" I could have had it."

" Only to puke it up an hour later."

" Would've tasted good tho'!"

" This is getting off topic. Anyway, men with less muscles are not less manly, not at all. They just happen to have smaller muscles, and sometimes, it comes in handy."

" Like when?"

At this, Simon faltered. He hadn't expected to have to provide examples, hoping instead that the boy would be satisfied with the answer he received.

" W-Well...a smaller guy could crawl through a small tunnel, where a bigger guy wouldn't fit!"

" But what if it collapsed, and then the little guy has teeeeeny tiny muscles and he gets squashed and then he's like ' Oh no, oh no, if only I had big muscles to save me!"

Simon gave in, laying his head on his arms against the handle of the trolley, a groan escaping his lips. Gary, on the other hand, stood beaming, pride reeking from him, gently ruffling the child's hair, grinning down at his dismayed father.

" Such a bright kid..."

" You shut your mouth, I swear you're to blame for his cheek."

" Captain always said you back-chatted him, must take after you. In the genes and all that."

Simon groaned once again, gritting his teeth, and simply ignoring his subordinate, pushing the trolley further down the aisle. His son looked over his shoulder, and pointed a small hand.

" I want down."

" 'I want' doesn't get."

" Pleeeeease can I go down?"

" Better."

Simon's reply was merely a grunt as he hoisted the boy from the trolley and placed him down next to him.

" Stay close."

The boy simple nodded, glancing back at Roach, before training his eyes back to the stocked shelves, watching for even a glimpse of an action figure. Simon turned his attention back to the list at hand, thrusting it at Roach.

" Do something useful and actually find some of this stuff."

" I believe it was to be a 'team effort' _sir_."

" So start pulling your weight!"

" I _am_ sir, I am waiting for further instructions."

As their bickering continued, and escalated at that, neither noticed the mousey head at their knees disappear. Will carefully peered down each aisle, glancing about for any sign of his watchers, before inspecting each one, still on the prowl for that illusive action figure. He stopped halfway down one particular aisle, and found his prize; inches above his reach. He grunted in effort, nimbly jumping to try and grab the toy, but failing.

" Need a hand with that?

The voice startled Will; a stranger. A man, clad in mostly black, a smile on his face as he watched the youngster.

" Y...Yeah..."

The man said nothing more, reaching up and plucking the toy from its place, gently turning it over in his hand.

" Ah, I remember having one of these when I was your age. In fact, my friend used to make them."

Will pricked up his ears. His friend _made_ them?

" Wow, really? That's so cool!"

" Indeed. He works here, actually. I could see if I could find him, I'm sure he could tell you about the new version that is coming out soon."

" A _new_ version! I didn't know 'bout that!"

" Of course not. It is top secret. Come, we shall see if we can find him, perhaps he can tell you more."

The man turned, beckoning for the boy to follow. Will paused, before skipping alongside him. He was staying in the store, right? He'd just say hi to the man, and then go back to Dad, and tell him _exactly_ what he wanted for Christmas. His new friend seemed nice enough, albeit he had a weird accent he'd never heard before. Dad had always said accents didn't matter anyway.

The man stopped at large doors marked ' Staff Only', and turned to the boy.

" We must be quiet, and we shall keep this between us, okay?"

He opened the door onto a warehouse, ushering the child inside, carefully glancing over his shoulder as he closed the door. Will blinked in the darkness, eyes unadjusted, slightly less sure if this was within his father's agreement of 'stay close'.

" Are you sure we're al-!"

His words stopped as he felt a sharp prick on his arm, causing him to cry out, tears to spring to his eyes and an instinctive struggle to free himself to begin. The man had a strong hold on him though, and he felt his eyelids begin to grow heavy, the fight slipping away from him. The last thing he remembered as the dark closed in was two men above him, speaking in some language he didn't understand, and the roar of a car engine.

" I only put him down for two minutes, he must have wandered off, I swear, I was watching him-"

" Sir, I just need the last place you saw him."

Simon felt the urge to tear off the mask currently shielding his face from the 'customer assistant' and bite her head off.

" By the cart! He was there, now he's not."

" In all honesty sir, you should keep an eye on small children whilst in the store. It is not our policy-"

" I'm just asking for your help! My son has disappeared, and-"

" Sir!"

Roach and Archer were back again; Roach's face was sheet white, and Archer was twitching nervously. Simon eyed them both up.

" Any luck?"

" No sir. But a member of staff reported seeing an unfamiliar man enter a restricted zone, and another reported a car leaving at speed from the back warehouse around 10 minutes ago."

" 10 minutes? They could be miles!"

He turned back to the slightly desperate assistant who, for all her 'uselessness' to him, was at least trying, and was on the phone, quickly rushing all the details to a 911 operator. She hung up, looking back at the 3 men assembled. Roach snorted.

" Feds'll take forever to get here. Look lady, just go to your CCTV for us, we've got more chance of getting our commanding officer to do something."

Simon was jittering, the usually calm team commander rattled, panic evident in his very breathing. The girl complied, taking the group upstairs to an office, where several screens sat, unmanned. Roach was the one to halt Simon before he swore profusely at their lack of security, as Archer sat down, ignoring the protests of the girl, and began backtracing, the images on the screen flickering as the rewound. All three men watched intently, even ignoring the entrance of a man proclaiming to be the store manager, eyes fixed on the screens. Archer hit the play button, and it took a few moments for the scene to play out until a tall figure appeared, accompanied by-

" _Will."_

It came out as a strangled gasp, Simon barely able to comprehend it. His son, his child, on screen, it was like watching a movie, it couldn't be happening.

And then it did. He had to watch, watch as they jagged them, hoisted him over one shoulder and made a smart walk to the back door, a black car appearing, and bundled him inside. One of the men turned back, glancing upwards towards the camera, a sick grin spreading on his face.

" The boss says... From Russia with love, 141."

He gave a manic grin again, turning and disappearing inside the car as it sped off out of view. The three men stood, wide eyed, mouths slack jawed, staring in pure horror and disbelief until-

" The BASTARDS!"

Roach turned instinctively but was too late to catch him; Simon had stormed past the store workers, quite literally flown down the stairs and was out of the store door before Roach had even scaled the first step.

" Archer, stay and liase, I'll get him!"

He dashed after his CO, following the camo jacket, reaching for the radio in his pocket as he ran.

" Captain MacTavish! We've had an incident! I'm currently headed back to base, Ghost is ahead of me. He..."

Gary didn't quite know what to say.

" He..."

" Spit it out Roach! What's happened?"

" I-It's Will! They've taken Will!"

There was a sharp intake of breath at the other end.

" Who's they?"

" Th-The Russians...Makarov...they...they kidnapped him from the store. Christ Captain, they drugged him, they drugged him and took him, he wandered off for like two seconds-"

" Fill me in when you arrive, where's Archer?"

" Still at the store, police have been called and are enroute, but they'll be fuck-all use."

" And Riley?"

Roach paused again, before answering with a frown, pain registering on his face.

" I think he was crying Sir."

**So...what do you think?**

**I did say it was going to change... -sweatdrop-**

**R+R folks! :3 **


	4. Team Player

**What's up guys? :3**

**So this chapter's a lot shorter than the others, I know, but I plan to update ASAP. I'm quite a 'jumpy' writer, in that I write what comes to me, leave it for a couple of hours, maybe a day, then beta it, and then post it. I can't have something sitting in my hard drive for ages, and I like to update quickly, even if it's a smaller chapter. **

**I felt I had to do a few quick shout outs, as my reviews are what help me to write! It's such a boost to see someone enjoying your writing, so here goes:**

**Stoneface: In particular, my first reviewer and still with me, always the first to review a new chapter, which is such a huge YAY personally. So very glad you're enjoying it, and thank you so so so much for the support! :D This chapter is for you!**

**Reg: There will be MOAR, I promise! Thank you for your reviews! :D**

**Dibs on Money: Haha, thank you for the fav! Your comments on le child always make me giggle :P**

**lest-horror-brings-it: I'm glad it's somewhat grown on you! And as for Will...we shall see -mwhahaha- ;D**

**Punkimunki: The fluff...fluff'd off for now. Rest assured, it will return! Thank you for your support! :)**

**Anyway, that's all for now, so I'll shut up and let you read. Enjoy!**

" Never thought they'd bring a kid into a war. Dirty tactics."

" Makarov's desperate for a point. He was an easy target."

" How did they find out about him? About us?"

" They have to have spies; a new military base opens up, wouldn't you want to check it out? Know what you're up against, aye?"

" But surely they would've let the child be. Taking one of the men would have been far more effective..."

" Would it? It woulda meant one hell of a struggle, whereas the boy was almost willing. Plus, they've seen us lose operatives before, they know how we work. "

" So by bringing the child into it, they're goading us; will we leave him behind?"

"...You're not honestly considering that, Sir?"

John Price sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose, with a sigh. MacTavish's bright blue eyes were on him, almost accusations in them.

" We have think sensibly, Soap. We have hundreds of other-"

" With all due respect, Sir, he's a child."

MacTavish's blunt answer caused Price to once more look back into those eyes, steeling himself.

" And children are born everyday."

" Sir, that child is part of-"

" Don't give me that crap, Soap. Personal attachments can't come into this. We risk the lives of our men to run straight into Makarov's nest and rescue one child. A straight-up, clear bait trap. I thought you had a more level head than that."

MacTavish gritted his teeth, biting back his next words, and instead, drummed his fingers on the table, concentration written across his face.

" Our informant said that he suspected he was being held at a safehouse, aye?"

" We're waiting for another report, but yes."

" So..." Soap took a deep breath before finishing. " We treat it as an intel operation. Go in, see if Makarov's lurking about, take out as many of his minions as possible, grab all the intel we can lay our paws on, get Will, and leave."

" Soap, did you listen to a word I just said? We can't risk our men-"

" Sir, I'm sure I know at least 2 men whom you don't even have to ask, one of them being our best man. I'm sure he would risk everything if you mentioned this."

" You're not honestly considering sending Ghost on this mission?"

There was a pause, then MacTavish's brash voice echoed throughout the ops building, anger clear in it.

" Why the hell not?"

" I think that last near RPG must've knocked the sense out of you Soap. Send a man with a grudge on a mission? Face it, he'd end up taking risks, killing everyone and anyone, and is most likely to be killed."

" Sir, besides you and me, he's our best man! He was my lieutenant for-"

" He has quite possibly the biggest chip on his shoulder, and from his recent behaviour, he's clearly not-"

" His son has just been kidnapped. With all due respect Sir, you're wrong. You're fucking wrong."

Price stood up, slightly shorter than his former subordinate, eyes locked on his.

" Put it this way, Soap. I'm not backing you up on this one, so you try explaining to the General why we need to sacrifice our men."

" It's not a sa-"

" Save it. That's my final word on this. I'm turning in, it's late... you should too."

Price gave him a quick, curt nod and turned, leaving a smouldering captain behind him. MacTavish waited until the door had clicked shut before uttering several expletives and kicking the nearest wall in sheer frustration. It had been 3 weeks since Will had been taken, and Price hadn't budged in his stance since they'd received the intel on his possible location several days earlier. Rationally, from a commanding side, John understood. From his own side, however, he refused to leave the child a prisoner, or worse. Children had no place in war, and the boy was an example of the lengths Vladimir Makarov was willing to go.

The other side of his personal view was, of course, Ghost. The Englishman had been a wreck ever since, plaguing himself with guilt (" I shouldn't have looked away") as insomnia and depression became his best friends. He barely spoke, preferring to remain silent behind that stoic mask, and MacTavish has met him wandering the rough edges of the base at 2am after his own demons had set in. It was the first time he'd seen the man without his mask since losing the boy, and the effects were clear. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, the once bright green now dim and sunken, and the sallow skin was paler than ever. John had tried, boy had he tried, to get through to him, to try and get him to speak, anything to give him some sort of lifeline to hold onto, to make sure he stayed rooted. It was a near impossible task though. The last time he'd shown any sort of emotion was when he'd burst through the door on the day of the kidnapping, shouting and swearing, smashed a window and demanded an AC130 to flatten the whole of Russia with. Eventually, the anger had subsided, and he'd broken down, Roach being the one to comfort the sobbing man while MacTavish had tried his best to get the police to co-operate. There was no sign of the boy though, and they'd been at a stalemate until this new intel. It wasn't particularly pretty; it wasn't just _a_ safehouse, it was _the_ safehouse. The safehouse where he'd nearly lost the very man he was trying to help, where both Ghost and Roach had stared death in the face, and won with barely seconds to spare. There'd be repercussions of returning, but that's where they reckoned the boy was, so that was their target. He'd yet to inform either man of this, but he severely doubted there would be objections.

As the image of Simon sobbing swam into his head again, John gritted his teeth and pulled out his phone. Price would never forgive him, but right now, he couldn't have cared less.

" Nikolai, pal. How are ya? Listen, I need a favour. You wouldn't happen to have a spare Pave Low would you?"

**I know it's short guys, but I promise there will be more soon!**

**And on another note, I had to bring Nikolai in; how I love him.**

**Anyway, R+R and until next time!**


	5. No Russian!

_**A/N**_

**Hey guys! Sooo..another shorter one. I was going to jump straight into the rescue ( I've already written most of that chapter) but I felt I should bring Will into it, as well as HeWhoMustNotBeNamed...Nah, not Voldy, but Makarov. This is chapter...is evil, I know, please don't shoot me! But I felt it had to be done. As always, enjoy!**

'_Where...where am I?"_

The blackness in his vision began to fade as the sounds of foreign voices reached his ears. Again, it was a language he didn't understand; it was harsh, almost angry. He tried to stand up, but found his arms bound behind his back, as well as his ankles tied. Panic instantly rose, and he felt a lump in his throat; where was he? More importantly, where was father?

" D-Daddy...?"

The voices around him stopped, and a man swam into view. He had black hair, a rough, yet somewhat young face; as though he'd seen things, been places, and it had aged him. He'd seen his face before, but he couldn't place it. The man spoke, his voice almost a hiss, cold and vicious.

" Not quite, _rebenka__1__. _ Welcome back to the world."

Will stared him in the face, frozen, small figure shaking.

" Wh-where...where am I?"

" Why, Russia, my young friend. In the middle of nowhere, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. So no escape plans, da?"

Da. Nikolai said that. Nikolai, Uncle Soap's friend, the one with the Pave Low. He was Russian. Russian. Something was stirring in the back on his sleep-riddled head. The Russians were the enemy, or at least, the bad ones. The bad ones led by... It all came back to him. He knew where he'd seen that face before. On a picture. On the wall in command. He was...

" M-Mak-k-karov..."

The man gave a sharp toothy grin, like a shark eyeing its prey.

" Ah, so you know me. Then you are the right one. Excellent."

" I want m-my daddy..."

His lip quivered, sobs beginning to wrack his body, hot tears slipping down his cheeks.

" _Silence."_

A hand grabbed his face, fingers crushing, forcing a choked squeal from the boy. He stopped sobbing, shaking, wide terrified eyes facing the man in front of him.

" You'll be silent, or we'll be forced to make you be silent, understand? "

" P-please, I j-just want...I j-just want my d-da-"

" Your father. Task Force 141."

Will bit his lip, watching the man, willing himself to stop crying. He had no doubt Makarov had meant his threat. He stood up, pacing slowly.

" Your father knows where you are. So do the rest of that team. Including one Captain Price. However, you must know, from what I understand, their policy."

Will's head was spinning, the pure fear of the man making his nauseous. Oh, where was his father when he needed him the most? He squealed in terror as Makarov bent down again, suddenly back to eye level.

" They do not recover fallen operatives. They leave them behind. It has been 2 weeks, little one. Do you think they will save you now? Do they not have better things to do?"

The revelation hit the boy like a ton of bricks. The man was right. His father had explained that it was too dangerous to send a team in to retrieve a fallen or captured operative. Which meant no rescue. They weren't coming for him. He sobbed, trying to stifle the sound, but it was no use. A hand struck him roughly across the cheek, causing him to cry out. His eyes met Makarov's cold ones.

" I said silence, _rebenka._ Is that an unknown word to you? Speak only when I tell you. Now..."

The man motioned to one nearby guard and a bundle of papers was thrust into his hand. He peeled off the first sheet, laying it in front of the boy.

" John Price."

He watched the boy's face as he continued, laying down another sheet.

" 'Soap' MacTavish."

Will bit his lip, not looking the man in the eyes. He knew nothing, that was his line. His father had told him that a hundred times, that it was to protect him. Perhaps now, he'd been right. The man before him paused before laying down a third sheet, making the boy whimper.

" 'Ghost'. I believe the name is Simon Riley. You know these men, correct?"

Will looked to the floor, ignoring the pictures, holding back the tears threatening.

" Boy, you'd better speak up. I am not a patient man."

Will held his breath, willing himself to stay silent. He had to be brave. Dad was brave, he went off to fight, he came home hurt, but he never cried, or was scared. He had to be like him. He had to-

" Tell me."

A hand was wrapped around his throat, crushingly tight, causing him to wheeze and gasp, struggling as Makarov's hard eyes bored into him. Will fought and struggled but it was no use, and he felt his head begin to lighten, his lungs screaming for air until-

" Y-yes..."

The hand around his throat loosened off, and he gasped for breath, lungs burning.

" That was easy, no? Now...this man..."

He held up Ghost's photo, watching the boy with those piercing eyes constantly.

" You resemble him greatly, no?"

Will said nothing, watching the man, still wheezing after his last attempt to make him speak.

" Come now boy, you won't be silenced, yet when I ask you to speak, you are mute. Tell me, this man... he is your father, no?"

Will didn't face the man again, chewing his bottom lip. He'd already slipped up once, his father and Uncle Soap would be disappointed in him. He had to say nothing. After a moment's pause, the man sat back on his heels, considering the boy for a moment.

" You know, child, there are many ways to make people talk. Your father and his team are great masters in this. I have seen many of my friends taken by them. Perhaps now, I shall get some small vengeance in the form of you. I admire loyalty, but perhaps you will realise how futile it is once you have seen my way."

Makarov stood up, turning to face the waiting guards beside him. He spoke in quick words Will didn't understand, before turning once more to look at the boy, the same sharp grin appearing. The two guards approached him, and the last thing he remember was pain spreading quickly across his chest, his head, everywhere, as darkness consumed him once more.

[1] rebenka - 'child'

**Sooo... I know, it was evil! But the rescue begins next chapter, I promise, and Ghost's gonna have some serious anger issues, me thinks (: R+R guys, and much love!**


	6. Just Like Old Times

**A/N**

**Thank you for all your reviewing and comments, they really mean a lot to me!**

**Punkimunki: Haha, thank you so much! And I felt so bad writing it :( **

**Reg: So glad you're enjoying it! :D And there shall be MOAR I promise! :)**

**Dibs on money: I was kinda worried about writing Makarov in- I did as much reading on him as I could before I did, because I felt I had to get him right. He's got to be one of my most favourite villains ever; he's not got a cheesy 'flaw', and he's not over dramatic- he's just so darn evil :D Such a relief to hear it works haha! And I did consider that whilst writing, that going after them would be risky, but I was (at least hoping) to go more along the lines of; 141 could possibly be his biggest threat, especially since they did manage to nab his intel and ops book in 'Loose Ends'. Plus, any chance to get back at Price, I think he'd take; he absolutely detests the man, and it would be a personal point. Price too, I think anyway, knows most about him, and by taking him out, along with Soap and Ghost (and any of the rest of 141 that so happen to be within firing range), he is lifting some of the danger off himself. That was my (somewhat) theory anyway :3**

**Stoneface: Deeper, is that a challenge? :) Thank you so much for your kind words, and Price will get what's coming to him, I promise...although I do have a place in my heart for the old git :P**

**XxSwAgGeRxShFtxX: Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it! Don't worry, it shall all be righted (: I'll add you next time I'm on the PS.**

**As always guys, enjoy! (:**

It was well into the grips of night by the time Nikolai stated that they were flying over Russia. They'd left once the base was silent, the chopper landing in a nearby field to ensure that Price stayed asleep; the last thing MacTavish needed was him to turn up. Nikolai had had no objects to the mission (he was being paid, after all), and as he had known, Ghost was the first to climb aboard the helo. It had somewhat relieving to see that spark come back into his eyes for MacTavish, to see that lust for the fight still in him, and they'd managed to assemble quite a group for the mission. Roach, obviously, had been second only to Ghost; Todd and Archer had geared up impossibly quickly; Meat, once coerced from his sleep, had been more than willing, and there were several others to boot. When Price woke in the morning, there was going to be hell on the radio waves, but MacTavish couldn't give a damn; the boy had to be rescued.

" So, we'll enter here, with exfil at the LZ alpha, all going to plan. Archer, Todd, you'll provide sniper cover from this ridge, and Meat, I expect C4 on those doors within seconds."

" Yessir."

" Then we go in, shoot every damn Russian in there, and-"

" I'm getting there Roach. We enter the house, take out any potential enemies, and raid. I want every piece of intel taken, laptops, disks, photographs taken, the whole lot. With any luck, our target will be inside, we remove him, and get to the LZ. This should be a quick op, boys. Everyone clear?"

There was a chorus of 'Sir' from the crew assembled in the Pave Low, before MacTavish turned to its pilot.

" Nikolai, get us down."

The moment the chopper touched down, they were oscar mike. Quickly weaving through the trees, they halted as the forest began to clear, a large house coming in to view. Ghost glanced over at Roach, finding the other man's eyes already on them. It was a shared glance, one of pain remembered, but also of support; it was simply 'I'm here for you, bro'. The trip down memory lane, however, was cut short as Archer and Todd moved off, getting into position.

" On my count."

It was MacTavish.

" Three...two..."

He never made 'one', as a bullet went whizzing past past his left cheek, striking the rock behind him.

" Get down! Enemy forces!"

The one bullet was soon followed by a hail of others, frantic shouting in Russian echoing through the air as the sound of snipe rifles began to ring around the area.

" Shit, how'd they know we were here?"

" You don't think a Pave Low landing was giving it away sir?"

" Roach, cut the chatter, stay frosty. Archer, give me a sitrep!"

" About 15 foot mobiles, sir, advancing from the house on your position. We're thinning them out, but we're gonna need some help here!"

" Got it! Let's move it boys! Counter into their fire!"

The team moved as one, a hail of counter attacking bullets firing back, approaching Russians hit and falling. Through the haze of fighting, MacTavish reached the large front door, Ghost by his side. Slipping in, he placed two bullets in the forehead of a straggler, Ghost taking care of two in the kitchen, before proceeding to signal in the rest of the team as the resistance crumbled.

" That was awfully weak for a safe house resistance, remember last time?"

" Aye, but there might be more. We need to move now. Meat, photographs. Chemo, Ozone, search upstairs. Roach, get on that computer and see what you can get. "

" Ain't that deja vu..."

" I said cut the chatter. Ghost, you're with me. The rest of you, spread out, watch the windows and grab as much as you can"

The team split, as MacTavish turned to his lieutenant.

" We've got basement duty."

He received a curt nod from the mask man, who followed him without another word, slipping down the stairs into the deserted basement, pausing by a door to check the sensor on his gun.

" Got 3 readings. Breach and clear, and see what we find."

He didn't get a response, only Ghost moving to plant a breaching charge on the wooden frame. John had plenty he could say, but chose to keep it back; the man would not take notice anyway, his mind clearly set on the goal of finding the boy, and nothing else. Any words would have been wasted. He shook off the thoughts, steadying himself as the charge blew, dashing in as his eyes adjusted.

Ghost had taken care of one of the men, a quick burst from his gun securing his fate. The other staggered aimlessly towards them, hand reaching for a weapon, but again, he was quick on the draw, the sound of shots ringing through the room before MacTavish had even had time to line a shot.

" Nice shot."

There was no reply from the man again, and MacTavish instead focused on the location of the third reading, his eyes resting on a small form, bound, gagged and blindfolded where the men had been. He was shirtless, cuts and bruises littering the tiny chest heaving with panic. He'd never seen Simon move so quickly; within an instant, he was kneeling down, working at the bonds. The child, however, squealed in terror, whimpering, his muffled words clearer as Simon ripped away the cloth gagging him, cowering as soon as his bonds were cut.

" P-please...don't hurt me...I w-want my daddy...p-please..._ [1]_"

" _Will."_

The effect the word had on the boy was immediate; he froze, babbling ceasing, and wide green eyes stared as Simon ripped away the last of material, letting him see just who his rescuer was. Will stared open mouthed for a moment, taking in the figure before him, as he reached up and tugged off the trademark mask and glasses, identical eyes taking in the sight of his son before him. There was a moment of silence, before the boy burst into a fresh round of tears, throwing himself onto the man with an almighty sob, small arms wrapping themselves around the man's neck.

"DADDY!"

Simon caught him, strong arms around the child in seconds, instantly comforting him, gently laying his head on Will's, breathing him in; _he had him. _He felt the lump in his throat rise, and he couldn't have cared less as he felt his own cheeks dampen, arms tightening protectively around his boy as he ran a shaky hand through his blonde hair.

" Shh...Will, it's okay, shhh...Everything's going to be okay...Daddy's here..."

He wasn't sure if it was more for Will or himself that he spoke. The child gently pushed away, looking up at his father's face, a small frown across his own. A hand reached up, planting itself on Simon's wet cheeks.

" Daddy...you're... you're _crying._"

Simon almost laughed, a weak chuckle slipping past his lips as he nodded softly, a hand deftly wiping his cheeks.

" Guess I am."

Will stared at him, a mixture of amazement and confusion on his face.

" You said big boys don't cry."

" Sometimes...it's okay to cry. Like when you're really scared. Or really happy. Then...it's okay."

The boy was silent for a moment, before looking back into his eyes again. Simon noted to himself that he'd never really noticed how _perfect_ those eyes were, how the tiny dimples on his cheeks creased as he frowned, the little things he vowed to never miss again.

" So why are you crying, Daddy?"

The boy's answer was another crushing hug, and a shaky, near-whisper.

" Because I thought I'd never see you again."

Will sniffed, a fresh round of tears making their way down his face, as he burrowed it into his father's neck, small fingers gripping the material of his shirt.

" I love you, Daddy."

Those four words hit him like a speeding train, the lump in his throat threatening to rise again. He nodded, kissing the boy's cheek as he replied.

" I love you too, son."

Simon Riley wasn't a religious man, not by any lengths; he'd often brushed aside any attempts to convert him to anything but his atheist ways. He'd seen too much blood and violence to believe in an all-powerful deity that could save the world. But right now, he found himself silently thanking whoever had given him back the boy in his arms, deity or not.

" Simon."

Hearing his name from his captain's lips was rare virtually unheard of. He looked up, meeting the icy blue of MacTavish's eyes. The usual harsh glint had disappeared however; the man had a gentle smile on his weathered face.

" You alright mate?"

Simon shot him a grin, another odd occurrence; it was amazing how easily that mask slipped the minute his balaclava was gone, another reason it rarely came off.

" Never better."

Will glanced up, a shy smile spreading across his face.

" Hi Uncle Soap."

John chuckled, leaning down and placing a gently hand on the boy's head.

" Nice to see you, Tigger.

**Sooo... I think this makes up for the evil-ness in the last chapter :3 I decided to pause it here so as to break it up a bit; the next part should be up pretty soon! See you then!**


	7. Cliffhanger

**A/N**

**Hi guys!**

**I'm so sorry for the delay in posting, work's been a little crazy recently, but I'm back with this chap. As usual with the 141, the most difficult bit is always the exfil; look at leaving the favela ( HOW many times did I die? D:), and of course, Loose Ends ( just when you thought it was the last wave, it never was). **

**As always, enjoy, and R+R!**

" All sectors, be advised, we have the target. I repeat, we have the target."

A whoop of joy echoed across the radio, and MacTavish suspected it was Roach; scrap that, knew it was Roach. Ghost stood up, Will in his arms, glancing over the bruises littering his son's chest and arms, and more worryingly, neck.

" Hey...what happened here, huh?"

He ran a gentle finger over the dark mark; Will's face instantly darkened and he looked up his father, worrying his lip. Simon paused for a moment, reading his son's face before alarm bells began to ring. He wasn't particularly surprised, it was war, not a fairytale, but still, to think that anyone had laid hands on his son made his blood boil. He went to question it further, but MacTavish cut in on his thoughts.

" Ghost, we gotta move. Incoming tangos. This is gonna have to wait."

Simon glanced over, before giving in with a sigh and a nod, mind back on the mission, heading after the captain back upstairs to where a gunfight was already in progress. Will instantly clung to his father, fear growing in his eyes; this was completely different to the shooting range on base. The rest of the force were already engaged, various shouts peaking over the gunshots. Typical that it would be a difficult exfil.

" MacTavish, this is Archer. We've got 40 plus mobiles en route, they're heavily armed! It's gonna be a bloodbath if we don't get out of here!"

Soap gritted his teeth, mind immediately trying to draw up a plan.

" They've trapped us. I knew it was a bait but I never thought Makarov would use it _this_ heavily. He wants us all gone, and as soon as possible. Alright, we gotta move. Everyone, exfil at the LZ. Immediate pull out, I repeat, immediate withdrawl! Gather up the intel we've got and get moving! Nikolai! We need you now!"

" Da! I am near, landing is very hot! You'll have to get the situation under control and-"

" I know that, just get the damn chopper down and us out of here!"

" Sir!"

MacTavish turned, an unmasked Ghost looking straight at him.

" We'll need cover. Fire's too heavy for us to make it without some sort of backing fire."

" Aye. Get moving, that's what I'm here for."

Simon paused again, face frowning in thought. MacTavish noted how similar it was to Will's 'pondering' look. Without another word to the captain, he turned to Roach, murmuring something to the American before handing him Will. Will, for his part, looked positively terrified.

" Daddy..."

Simon turned to him, a smile on his face.

" It's okay. Roach's gonna take you to the chopper, I'll be right behind, yeah?"

The little boy worried his lip again, looking up at the man. Ghost sighed, pulling out the signature mask, and gently tugged it over the boy's head.

" There. Now, there's a lot of responsibility behind wearing that mask; you can't be scared, okay? And remember, you can't kill a ghost. So you'll be fine. Just make sure Roach doesn't chicken out and cry, huh?"

Gary opened his mouth to protest, but let it slide with a grin, already shuffling the boy in his arms and steeling himself at the door. He looked towards Ghost, taking the chance to actually try and read his face; it was a rare sight to see Simon mask-less. Thought time, however, was cut out as a loud bang rocked the house.

" RPG team! Moving in from the East! Suggest you start that exfil now sir!"

" Got it. Roach, get him out of here. The rest of you, Ghost and I'll provide cover. Nikolai's at the LZ, move move move!"

Roach was out of the door before Will could protest at being separated from his father, shots ringing as his protector ran, making a mad dash towards the approaching Pave Low. A hail of answer bullets rang out from behind them, taking out any approaching threats, as the group ran. Roach found himself almost tripping down the hill, shouts echoing behind him. He had to admit, the deja-vu was horrible; last time he'd been running down this hill, he'd almost been desecrated with a mortar, and then...well, everyone knew what had happened next. It had plagued him for months afterwards; the fear as Shepherd had pulled the trigger, and then he'd lay, watching them douse him in fuel and the sheer pain as that cigarette has hit. In all honesty, he'd thought that was it; life was over, and he'd almost begged for it to end quickly, anything to stop the pain. But Simon had appeared, like an angel, perhaps of death, and saved him from the flames. How, he'd never asked; if the man had buried the memories, he was ready to do so too. All he knew was that he owed him his life, one way or another. Hence why the bundle in his arms was all the more precious; he couldn't fail him now. As had been proven in his disappearance, Simon put Will far ahead of himself in terms of safety, and that Gary had been trusted to look after the child showed a deep trust of him that he was highly unwilling to betray. The thought alone pushed him on, over the endless boulders and long grass, relief swimming into his head as a large chopper began to lower itself.

Roach reached the Pave Low first, hoisting the child up through the door before pulling himself in. He turned, immediately helping the men behind him clamber in when his radio crackled into life.

" Ghost is hit, repeat, Ghost is hit! We're on our way to the LZ and- shit, I need covering fire! Hang on mate, I gotcha. Roach, you safe?"

" Affirmative, we're on board!"

" Good. Lay down some fire for us, they're coming in heavy! C'mon Ghost, we're nearly there!"

Roach grabbed the nearest gun he could lay hands on, turning to the fear-stricken child behind him, who looked at him with wide eyes.

" Daddy's hurt?"

" You gotta stay here bud, out of sight where its safe."

He slid back out of the helo, the team joining him, doing as MacTavish had instructed. There were several tense moments as nothing appeared out of the rising smoke aside from enemy bullets until a figure emerged, another slumped over his back, panting.

" Friendly incoming! It's MacTavish!"

" Damn right it's me! Give me a hand..."

Gary was first to jump, catching Ghost gently, the red seeping across his chest instantly panicking him. The man gave a groan, face curled in pain.

" He got a torso hit?"

" Aye. Nasty one too."

" Christ, you can say that again. Chemo! We need medic, stat!"

" Got it! Get him on the helo, I can look at it there."

" Right..."

There was another pained groan from the injured man, who looked up at Roach with worried eyes.

" Will...Where's...Will.."

Gary laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

" He's safe, on board, in one piece and alive. Worry about yourself for once, eh?"

Ghost gave a weak grin, instantly flinching in pain as the troupe hauled him inside, feeling darkness claw at the corners of his vision.

" Ghost? Hey, stay with me! Ghost! Shit, Chemo, we're-"

" Yeah, I know! Captain, we need to move now!"

MacTavish pulled himself onboard with a quick nod, instantly scooping up Will and taking the furthest seat from the door possible, turning him away from the group of men. The boy squirmed, panicked.

" Daddy! Uncle Soap, what's happened to Daddy?"

" Nikolai, let's go before they decide to catch up! Will, he's just a little hurt, alright? Chemo's gonna look after him, just calm it."

The boy clung to him as the helicopter lurched from the ground, rising in the air quickly as the hail of enemy fire began to fall away. MacTavish was almost grateful for the noise of the chopper; the less the boy heard, and saw, the better. As soon as he could, he pushed forward, placing the boy in the co-pilot seat beside Nikolai with strict instructions to stay there and not look back. Looking back himself, it wasn't a pretty sight. Chemo was making quick work of Ghost's molle vest and shirt, blood quickly spreading around the wound and onto the medic's hands as he barked instructions at the men around him, ranks forgotten in the chaos.

" Get my medi-pack from that corner, Meat, I need the large gauze and the grips. We're gonna have to get this bullet out if he's living! Roach, I need to you to try and keep him talking here! It's gonna hurt like hell, but we ain't got time for anything else."

Roach nodded, his hands fumbling as they found Ghost's neck, feeling frantically for a pulse, eyes fixed on the drooping green ones in front of him.

" Ghost! Oi, did you not hear him? You gotta stay with us, mate. C'mon, you can't do this, we just got Will back for crying out loud!"

At the mention of the boy's name, there was a flicker of recognition in Simon's eyes, before they became unfocused again, colour draining from his face. Panic quickly found its way into Roach's voice as he spoke, the fear evident.

" Chemo, we're losing him!"

" I know! Captain, we need to get him to a hospital stat! He's losing too much blood!"

" We're in the middle of enemy territory, where do you suggest we go?"

" Any hospital, anywhere! I can try and stabilize him for now, but I can't stem the bleeding 'till that bullet's out, and it's deep and he's dropping fast!"

" My friend, I know a place."

MacTavish had never been more relieved to hear Nikolai's rather infamous line; he knew someone for anything, everywhere.

" Get us there Nikolai, pronto. We've got a life on our hands."

**Well, if it was back to being happy-happy, it just wouldn't be me. I know, it's terrible. Till next time! (:**


	8. Second Son

**Well guys. I had such an outpouring of love for Green Eyes when I posted 'Late'. Really. I was gob-smacked that that many of you cared about it, and felt rather bad for not continuing it. So several hours of MW3 later, and my muse had returned. SO, several months overdue, here is the next chapter (: It's a little different, but I'm hoping to get my plot back, etc, so you'll have to bare with me for now! :D**

" You know, you're an idiot for missing it. Price came over the radio as soon as we landed. Boy, he was mad. Never heard him yell like that. Even the Captain was flinching. 'Course, when we told him you were injured, man, he hit the roof. Well, he'd probably already hit it before, but you know what I mean."

Roach gave a quick chuckle, glancing over at his company, before letting out a sigh, and sitting forward.

" Let's not even start on your son. Kid refuses to sleep alone. It's me or MacTavish, constantly clinging to us. Nightmares every night. He won't talk though, just cries. The captain's found his fatherly instincts though, I guess. He's pretty good with him…"

Despite Roach's endless chatter, there was no reply from the man on the hospital bed, only the steady rhythmic clicks and beeps of the various machines in the room. Not that he'd expected a reply. It had been over two weeks since they'd returned. Nikolai had landed at a tiny make-shift hospital somewhere out in the wilderness of Russia, and they'd at least, albeit with Chemo demanding to have a presence, saved Ghost. After a couple of days, they'd managed to bring him back to the States, and straight into ICU at the large general hospital in the city nearest the base. This is where they'd been ever since, waiting for any movement from the lieutenant, one team member always present at his bedside.

As Roach sat back, there was a deft knock at the door, opening to reveal a plain clothed MacTavish, with Will by the hand.

" How's he doing?"

" Same as ten minutes ago when you left. Ain't you heading back to base?"

" Just going. Just...wanted to make sure."

" I'll call in any changes, Captain."

Soap gave a swift nod, tugging on Will's had softly. The little boy chewed his lip, taking a final glance at the man on the bed, before looking back to Roach.

" Look after Daddy for me."

Gary found himself unable to answer the young boy, eyes bright and wide, simply nodding in place of an answer. MacTavish sensed it was probably best to leave, and turned, tugging the boy after him. There was a silence as the door closed, before Gary laughed weakly.

" Some kid, Simon. Some kid. Y'know, for being raised as a military brat, he's awful...sweet. I guess I expected a silent kid that called everyone 'sir' and had a constant goose-step going on. I mean, he's not just any military brat. Raised on a top-secret Task Force base? Ain't many kids can say that. And having you as a dad…"

The sergeant stopped, a soft grin plastering across his face.

" Well, that's a one of a kind thing, isn't it? To able to brag that one of the best soldiers in the world fathered you? Saving the world and all that jazz. You're like Superman to him, minus the cape. And the captain, that's another thing. Having 'Soap' MacTavish as your...well, I guess grandfather sort of cuts it. Some hand in raising you. I could've sworn he would've had that mohawk by now…"

He stopped again, the grin disappearing as he looked over the still Simon.

" We need you back, mate. MacTavish, it's clear he misses you. Besides, the paperwork's stacking up already. Me, I'm missing my poker partner, 'cuz Meat constantly cheats. And little bug needs a dad. The captain can fill in, or me, but it's you he's needing, Simon. He ain't got those green eyes for nothing."

There was silence between the pair in the car, the younger's eyes fixed out of the window, the elder's on the dark road in front of him. It was late, the drive alone took over an hour, and Will had been silent the whole way so far. John desperately wanted to get the young boy talking; he'd taken Simon's habit of bottling everything up, knowingly or not, and frankly, it scared him. The kid needed to speak it out.

" You alright, Tig?"

There was a non-committal huff from the boy, which John took as a sign of his reluctance to talk, but pressed on regardless.

" Anything you want to talk about?"

" If there was, I would've talked."

Oh, and there was Simon in those words. MacTavish cursed under his breath.

" 'Ya need to talk, Will. Your dad might be the strong silent type, but he's had years of practice and-"

" Then I should start practicing."

And with that, there was silence again. John chose to stay silent, inwardly cursing Simon and his bloody attitude problem, and concentrated on the road. Half an hour later, as he pulled up to base, the boy was sound asleep. He carefully removed him from the vehicle, silently making his way back to his quarters, praying for the boy to stay asleep. The nightmares had begun to take their toll on him, and he was regularly cranky. Any sleep gained, therefore, was vital. Taking care not to jolt him, John set him down in a small army cot set up at the side of the room, before stripping down and slipping on a pair of sweats and climbing into his own bed, grateful for the rest. Between looking after Will, darting between base and the hospital, and still trying to stay on Price's good side by actually captaining the Task Force (although, the older man was still rather peeved about the whole mission), he'd found himself shattered.

He was asleep for, what he guessed, was barely an hour before being jolted awake by a small pair of hands. John groaned, sitting up and flicking on the bed lamp, wide green eyes staring at him from the side of the bed, rimmed with tears.

" What's up?"

The boy was silent, sniffing in place of words, and quickly wiping at any tears that fell. MacTavish gave him another moment, before lifting the duvet with a nod of his head.

" C'mere, wee man."

Will took no convincing, scrambling in and almost instantly clinging to the older man, burrowing his head into the crook of his neck. John flicked off the light, silently settling back down, a hand gently soothing the boy's back. They'd spent many nights like this in the wake of their return, the boy sniffling and sobbing, and him doing his best to comfort. He had to admit, he was pretty crap with this whole thing to begin with, but it'd grown on him. He often found his train of thought wandering away to visions of a different life, with a wife and a boy of his own, but it was something he knew would remain just that. Still, it didn't hurt to dream...

" Imisshim."

John jumped slightly, Will jolting his thoughts back to the present. The boy had spoken. A miracle, breakthrough.

" I know, kiddo. Me and you both."

" He's gonna be okay, right? Right Uncle Soap?"

" Of course. It's your dad. He's gonna wake up, everything'll be just fine, he'll be back before you know it."

Christ, who was he trying to comfort here? Will, or himself? The boy speaking, however, he could only take as a good sign. There was silence before Will spoke again.

" Okay. I believe you."

" Good lad."

It was a somewhat awkward, jumpy conversation, with Will saying the bare minimum, and John suspecting he was doing the same.

" You'd make a good dad, Uncle Soap."

That he had not been expecting. In the semi-dark, light flooding in through the cracks of the curtains from the base lighting, he could see those eyes on him.

" Y'think, Tigger?"

" Uh-huh. Have a little boy."

This elicited a short laugh from John.

" And why's that?"

" So I could have a little brother to protect. And a playmate! I could teach him everything, y'know! How to walk, how to swim, how to hold a gun…"

Of course, the gun would be in that mix. John pushed his vision (which had come back into his mind rather quickly) away, choosing instead to give Will a gentle pat on the back.

" Maybe one day, eh?"

" Mh. I hope so."

With that, he fell silent, and it was only several minutes until his breathing evened out, indicating he was asleep. John brushed the blonde bangs off his face gently (mentally noting that a hair cut was needed), and placed a rather tender kiss on the boy's forehead. He had to admit that being father had become more appealing after taking on the role of temporary guardian to the little boy, and since his birth in general. In reality, of course, this would have to do.

**Ah, so this turned out sort of Soap-centric, I know. But I wanted to explore that bond that Will and MacTavish share, because I honestly think he would be such a huge part of the wee boy's life. And I think he would make a brilliant father (DAMN YOU INFINITY WARD). Anyway, we all know Soap's all fuzzy (and bubbly? :3) deep down. All he needs to an adoptive son to show it.**


	9. Of Their Own Accord

**Apologies for the slow upload folks. Life just seems to get in the way these days.**

It was early morning when Will awoke, blinking in the sleep out of his eyes. MacTavish snored beside him, clearly enjoying his morning lie-in. The little boy pushed himself from the bed, tip-toeing his way to his shoes and almost silently left with them in hand, the door closing behind him with a soft 'click'. He slipped on the trainers, noting that it was indeed early; the sun had clearly only just risen, and most of the men, from what he could make out, were still on early morning run, at the far side of the compound. That meant first choice on breakfast, most importantly.

Weaving his way through the buildings, the route he knew like the back of his hand, he found the mess hall empty. Seizing the opportunity, Will raided the kitchen, tugging open the large fridge door, and pulling a milk carton from his father's compartment. He slipped the lid, bringing the bottle to his lips, before almost choking as a voice rang out.

" Get a glass, lad."

Price stood at the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, cigar in his mouth. Will stared for a moment, before noting what the elder man said and nodding.

" Yessir…"

He did as told, pouring himself a large glass under the captain's watchful eye, before replacing the milk and closing the fridge. Price grunted his approval, reaching for a mug of coffee Will hadn't even noticed, before motioning for the boy to join him as left. He trotted after the elder man, clambering onto one of the mess benches next to him, as Price took a large swig of coffee. There was a plate with several slices of toast (Will scolded himself for missing it before), which he greedily eyed up. Price chuckled, handing him as slice, and watching as the boy dug in.

" You're up early."

Will shrugged, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

" Woke up. Uncle 'Tavish's still asleep. Was hungry."

Price chuckled again, taking a slice of his own, the room falling into silence. It was less comfortable than the usual mornings of breakfast with the men, or his uncle. It wasn't that he disliked Price, far from it, but there was something about the man that kept Will quiet; perhaps it was intimidation, he wasn't all too sure. He was softer spoken, more serious, then any of the other men, and for several years, Will was convinced he'd simply been a nuisance to the older man. His father assured him otherwise, but he was never wholly sure of just how he stood with the captain.

" No word on your dad yet. They said they'd phone later. Roach's with him. "

Will glanced to the moustacheod man, swallowing before shrugging again, saying nothing in return, concentrating on the toast in front of him. Price waited a moment, expecting a reply, before speaking again.

" He'll be fine, lad. Not to worry, tough as nails, your dad."

Again, there was no reply from the boy. John watched him, noting that the boy did his best to avoid his eyes, taking a deep draw on his cigar. Talking was clearly not going to work out. The kid had always been somewhat quiet around him. Maybe it was because he lacked Roach's natural charm with children, or Soap's uncharacteristic gentleness and unwavering love for the boy (hidden, of course, behind gruff grunts of approval, or pats on the back in front of the men). He was a man set in his ways, and children had never really been his _thing_. He was a good kid, he couldn't deny that, and he liked both him and Simon (top English bloke, as far as he was concerned, reminded him a lot of Gaz). Yet, he'd never really taken to the babysitting, although he had done it, and he'd let Soap take the bigger role in the boy's life. This was different though. There was no Simon, and currently in the room, no Soap, no Roach. Just him, and this silent child. With a defeated sigh, he gave into the somewhat grandfatherly figure yapping at the back of his skull, and rose from the table.

" C'mon."

He tapped the boy on the back, standing and motioning for the boy to follow him as he left. Will blinked; what on earth could he possibly want at this time of the morning? He swallowed the last of his toast before almost skipping after the man, following him all the way to the shooting range, which was deserted.

" Your dad taught you to fire a gun?"

Will glanced up at him, nodding somewhat apprehensively.

" Uh-huh. Him an' Uncle Soap give me lessons."

" Y'know your safety rules?"

Will nodded again, doing his best to keep in step with John.

" ACTS."

The captain glanced down at his young charge, raising an eyebrow.

" ACTS?"

The boy nodded, grinning.

" Dad said it'd be easy to remember."

" Go on then."

" Uh...'kay. A. Assume. So, assume its always loaded. C. Control. Control the gun, and muzzle, always."

" And always know what you're pointing at."

Will looked up at him, as Price cleared his throat.

" Your bullet could go through your target, hit something else. Could ricochet. But keep going."

" Um... T. Trigger. Finger off th' trigger 'till you're gonna shoot. And S. Safe. PROVE it's safe. So um...know how to show it's unloaded."

Price nodded approvingly, stopping at a large bolted door, retrieving a set of keys and disappearing inside. Will peered in after him, poking a head around the door.

" Did I get it right?"

John reappeared with a .22 rifle in hand, scope set on top, with Will's eyes lighting up.

" Spot on. Let's see if you're all talk though."

The boy quickly followed after him, Price setting the rifle at a station, and handing Will a pair of ear muffs from the wall.

" Now then. Let's see this shot of yours."

With the older man's help, the boy shrugged the gun into his arms, closing one eye and focusing on the target down range. John stood back, watching him, as Will took the shot, bullet hitting the target down the range.

" Excellent shot, son."

Will practically beamed, eyes bright, grin wide, at the praise.

" But you can do better. Go on, aim again. We've got plenty of bullets."

And so it remained, the elder man watching the careful shots, and issuing advice where necessary, from around his cigar, for almost an hour. It wasn't until Soap jogged into sight, relief clearly flooding his face at finding his lost charge, that Price even considered stopping the boy.

" Mornin' Soap."

Will turned, instantly beaming. MacTavish caught his breath, nodding a reply to the older man.

" Look, Uncle Soap, I hit 'em all...kinda..."

John glanced down the range, squinting slightly in the morning sun, before nodding somewhat in approval, looking back to his mentor.

" Message from the General for you, sir."

Price gave a slight scoff, straightening up, and gently ruffled Will's hair.

" Good shootin' son. Get some practice, and we'll see about a bigger gun..."

Will squealed in delight, placing the rifle back down on the holder and tugging off his earmuffs as Price turned and left, handing Soap the keys to the containment.

" Havin' fun?"

" Uh-huh! Price's soooo cool! He was teaching me how to shoot between breaths. S'difficult though."

" Between breaths? You gonna be a sniper?"

" Maaaaybe. I do like ghillie suits..."

John laughed, taking the rifle from the boy and disarming it with expert precision, before placing it carefully away and locking the container.

" Too right laddie. Old man's the best there is, you've got an excellent teacher. You should see him when we're out in the field. He's in his element, stealthy, precise. "

Will eyed up Soap, replacing the ear muffs on the wall, before following the man back towards the rest of the compound.

" So is he like...your hero?"

MacTavish raised an eyebrow, turning to look at his young charge.

" My hero?"

Will nodded feverently.

" Everybody has one! Or two."

" Oh really? D'you?"

" Of course! Dad."

There was a pause, as the boy's cheeks coloured slightly.

" And then you."

John blinked, slightly taken aback by the boy's blunt admission, the creeping 'fuzzy' feeling gaining on him, and he couldn't help but smirk rather teasingly.

" Me?"

Will huffed, sensing the humour in the man's voice.

" I'll change my mind if you're nasty about it."

There was a barking laugh from the older man, who clapped a gentle hand to his back.

" I was only joking, kiddo. You're too kind."

" So go on then! Is he or is he not?"

God, he was persistent. John made a mental note to give Simon a good smack for giving him the trait. _Push, push, push..._

" Aye, alright. If it makes you happy."

" So you look up to him?"

The nit-picking was beginning to actually make him think. Of all the shared moments with his mentor, from the beginning in Credenhill, to the last night spent in his company at the bar. To the amount of times he'd saved his ass (and vice versa, he guessed), to everything the older man had instilled in him, taught him, lectured him on. He'd be a different man without him, and lesser he suspected.

" Aye."

Will smiled, apparently content with his reply.

" That's good. I always thought he didn't like me, y'know? But he's just..."

The boy shrugged, letting out a sigh so beyond his years that John had to laugh.

" He's just Price, laddie. He cares for you, don't let him make you think otherwise. Why else would he be giving you your little lessons, huh?"

Will shrugged again, somewhat avoiding the question.

" 'Cuz he feels sorry for me. Like everyone else."

Soap gave a curious look to the boy, who met his eyes somewhat sheepishly.

" Because of Dad."

" They only care, Will."

" They _pity_ me! I don't like it."

They stopped walking, MacTavish crouching down to meet Will at eye level.

" William. Nobody pities you."

The child didn't meet his eyes, instead focusing intently on the ground, sniffing loudly.

" They do. I heard Meat and Neon speaking yesterday. 'It's such a shame.' 'Poor kid.' 'Poor Will'. Well, it's NOT a shame. I'm not ashamed. I'm not 'Poor Will'. I'm proud. Proud and...and..."

And with that, he began to sob. Loud, heaving sobs, accompanied by fat tears, that slipped down his face and fell onto the dusty ground. John was somewhat taken aback for a moment; the kid never cried. Not that this wasn't a good thing. He'd been bottling it up, he'd known it, and here was the result. With a somewhat disapproving tut, MacTavish took him into his arms, and continued back towards quarters.

" I told you, everybody just cares, Will. We're family, huh?"

The boy nodded, snuffling into John's shirt, and taking a tight grip, still sobbing.

" I know it's h-his job, and I'm n-not meant to c-cry b-because he's just doing his duty but...b-but I want d-daddy..."

" I know lad, I know. He'll be back soon."

" But wh-what if he's not? I m-mean, look at what happened to Rooster ...a-and Patron... they never came out of the h-hospital..."

" Then you have me. Me, and Roach, and Price, and everyone else. You won't be alone. But that's not even worth thinking, because he's going to be just fine. I promise you."

" You shouldn't make p-promises you can't keep. Th-that's what Dad says."

John groaned, a tinge of frustration edging through.

" I can keep this one. Your dad has been through much more than this, and he's come off just fine. He-"

He was cut off, as an out-of-breath Roach jogged over, stopping beside him.

" I thought you were with Ghost."

" I was. But I thought you should know that he's awake."

_Good timing God._ He'd never been more thankful.

**FYI, I don't believe Gaz is Ghost. Just doesn't settle with me. But there are similarities, I'll give you that**


End file.
